


Hair Washing

by TyMatthews (snailsluck)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, Hair Washing, M/M, Or Is It?, So PROBABLY Nothing horrendous, my tags are annoying yes nice to meet you too, no really I still use it, okay so there will be hair washing, question mark?, read the orig version of this in ff.net, relationships are not that simple, so not totally really resolved? but getting there?, things resolved, what is going to happen?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:37:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailsluck/pseuds/TyMatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas wonders will he ever get good at relationships and faces rare moments of honesty while washing Martin's hair.</p><p>(Solely for the purpose of posting it in Archive of Our Own I rewrote and reconstructed a story (by the same name) I wrote in June 2014 for cabinpres_fic meme. Also found in fanfiction.net Further info on the notes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair Washing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely reconstructed edition of a story (by the same name) written by me in June 2014. First written as a response to a prompt at cabinpres_fic (anonymously), then shortly after posted with necessary spelling edits for fanfiction.net (TyMatthews) and now, September 2014, my brain is ready to critically process the previous writings, callously delete everything and rewrite. This one makes more sense, I promise you.

An argument was all it had been! Surely it's no excuse to run off. Faking a incoming phone call no less! A call for a job… He didn't even remotely try to be convincing about it.

What he could've done was even claim a call arriving earlier while Douglas was in toilet or something. Wouldn't have made it any less awkward, but at least -no, Douglas wouldn't have bought it, but the effort would have been there! All he'd have to have said was, something -oh, he didn't know! Something like… Anything really.

However to fish a clearly not ringing old log of a phone (Nokia 33-something) and "answer" it! Douglas knew Martin to be better actor than this! It was infuriatingly insulting. Douglas should be insulted! He wanted to be feeling insulted. Outraged, angry, everything! Simply every feeling you'd think to rise in a conflict, he wanted them, and he certainly could indulge himself in them. Still all Douglas had was a shoulder hunching worry. He'd welcome any feeling but this, this strain that crept to him. Like his bones were in a body too small, his extremities too cold and blood running too fast, too thin. He was almost sure if he took a look in a mirror right now an old wrinkled man would watch him pained inhuman dots.

This wasn't something Douglas would describe to anyone as a typical hobby of his, not even consider admitting ever happening to him. It was laughable! So very ridiculous, but Martin had been, so, very pissed off. And that was how, Douglas was now worrying, actually feeling the weight and worrying. The argument had been nothing! It was a silly thing. Just a silly thing.

Still a storm had risen and Douglas could do nothing but wait to sort it out. The ticking claiming to be seconds was filling the room sounding from a small clock and Douglas had ants travelling under his skin by the neck. Feelings were rising in his stomach like surprising rice. He, Douglas Richardson was concerned (yes! that was rather a successful start!) over Martin, a grown man… No, rest of that sentence just wouldn't echo true. Martin could handle himself, despite being excellent teasing fuel. Just by existing. Just by Douglas. No, he didn't worry, not in all actuality, over Martin Crieff.

It's just there was something else. Something he wouldn't say. Something he can't let himself dwell on lest he gave up and wouldn't get up in the mornings. It was that idle thought that still managed to sneak in. "What if it's me?" Born years ago. Reborn in each ending relationship he had had.

Never the less he had been so sure of this time. Of this one. For one, not working that Richardson charm directly at him. A concious decision. It had been instant interest, on Douglas's side, but he hadn't let himself. Not even after the divorce, not even after the official announcement of that shameful divorce to Martin, on that flight over Russia. The tortuously long and romantic sunset of a flight hadn't changed anything. Even though the sun had played slow waltz on Martin's skin, making it glow. Had sparked gleams in his hair, reflected from his shades and made the dimples' shadows deeper. Eyes twinkling and observing the sky keenly as Douglas took everything about him in.

Oh! Not forgetting the hat. How could anyone any time, possibly, forget about the hat? At that moment he had thought it rather suited Martin. In a very un-suiting way. It fit him for the constant play against the odds. Absolutely constantly playing on the losing side. In every game found in modern life. Yet a captain he had made of himself, over Douglas. The all lucky and cunning Douglas. Someone who could jump from table to table and win every time he wanted at any game he wanted. Someone who could count his cards and keep them close to his chest too. 

In a silly moment Douglas had even thought it wasn't that hat that was unfit really. Though prominent it wasn't out of the standard. It was Martin. He was more or less like someone out of different reality -and naturally everything around him would look unfit and participants on already lost game. It was no wonder Martin and his family kept a distance. It was a mean thought, sure. Though not one Douglas thought as such, but rather felt it lit flames of lust under his collar. And unfortunately think of sex intermittently around Martin ever since. Join an already lost game and still win? If anyone could, Douglas had thought, it'd be Douglas, the sky god. It had been silly. It had been such a delicious thought, but reality was… He wasn't. He couldn't.

Maybe it was him? What if Helena cheated because Douglas couldn't live a lie? What if Douglas let his cards slip? Was he cold? Was he blind? Nawh! Yet still. What if he had driven Helena to do it? Maybe it was him? How had he missed any signs? Maybe he just wasn't lovable and likeable by anyone in the long term? The impossible conclusion seemed to be that -why, the one thing Douglas Richardson tried to do and wasn't very good at was relationships, intended to be the "rest of their lives" kind. He had found it. He'd have to tell Martin that, oh, Martin.

Nevertheless this was Martin, he was thinking about. Having batched enough teasing of him he knew how to read him like a road sign. This time the sign had read, hidden behind not so clever ruse of dinner and breakfast and dishes, FEELING NOT WANTED OR LOVED. How had Douglas caused this? He just couldn't trace any misstep.

Douglas took up a book to occupy him enough on the darkening evening instead of just hopelessly waiting for a chance to fix things.

 

The next morning, Martin was found in a ditch. Just around the corner. Found by a neighbour now knocking and ringing on the door waking Douglas up and insisting on Douglas to hurry to the door. "Have you lost your ginger man?", he asked of all the questions.

Five AM, hours of the unforgiving side along with the company of threadbare neighbourhood elderly hermit and being forcibly woken by the said person just for the sake of biscuits?! Douglas could have slaughtered everyone in the village with his eyes.

"I am just wondering as I found one in the ditch and he looked like yours."

"Say what?"

"What?"

Douglas's annoyance had momentarily faded yet this person was really pushing it. Hastily grabbing a jacket off the hanger to cover his dressing gown and stepping some shoes on, he was ready for this.

"Just show me."

**Author's Note:**

> An originating version of this can be found in ff.net


End file.
